


Honey, I'm Good

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Lydia Martin/Jordan Parrish, Snark, Wordplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 09:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14422320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: Lydia's friends seem determined to figure out which one of them gets to take Jackson home tonight. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, except he's already taken. Very, very taken.





	Honey, I'm Good

**Author's Note:**

> So the other day, I was in the car and "Honey, I'm Good" but Andy Grammar came on my playlist. And as I bounced around singing to it, I imagined Jackson being in this bar and all these girls coming on to him, and he's like yeah, you are GORGEOUS but I've got someone to go home to. And then I had this whole idea about misunderstandings due to nobody using pronouns, and it kind of wandered off from there. Add in some healthy wordplay and silliness, and this is where we've ended up. <3 Enjoy.

“Lydia!”

Jackson winces at the synchronized high-pitched squeals. He steps closer to Lydia, pastes on a smile as they’re swarmed by three women. She introduces them quickly, and he hugs each in turn: Maggie, Miriam, and Jessica. Lydia gestures and Jackson happily drops onto the U-shaped couch in the back corner of the club.

The two of the three girls manage to squeeze in next to him, Maggie ducking into the U before Lydia can, so she can slide around the end and land on Jackson’s other side from Jessica. Miriam looks slightly put out when she has to slide in next to Lydia opposite them.

“He’s just as hot as you said,” Miriam whispers to Lydia, and Jackson smirks.

“Hotter,” he replies, even though he knows he wasn’t meant to hear her, and Miriam flushes.

Maggie pats his arm, snuggling in close. “So, Lydia says you dated all through high school. Why’d you break up?”

“We dated until I left for London,” Jackson replies. Across the table, Lydia raises an eyebrow so he smirks and winks at her. “Obviously I was an idiot and let her get away.”

“I was too smart to stay with you,” Lydia retorts, and Jackson raises his glass in return.

The truth is that they were both too young, and it was a long time ago, anyway.

“Besides,” Lydia points out. “We’ve both moved on since then, haven’t we? Thankfully Jackson’s managed to come back from Europe before the wedding.”

“I have to give Parrish my condolences,” Jackson quips, ducking when Lydia crumples her napkin and throws it at him. “All right, all right, I have to wear a tux and stand up for you.”

“You’re in the wedding?” Maggie leans her head on his shoulder. It’s an obvious ploy to get him to put his arm around her, and he keeps his hands in the uncomfortable position of resting on the table instead. “You should have a date,” she declares.

“He doesn’t need a date for the wedding,” Lydia says blandly.

“It doesn’t have to be anything permanent. A one-nighter’s fine with me,” Miriam suggests, her skin flushed warm and bright, so deep that Jackson can hear the blood pumping in her throat.

“What’s your type?” Jessica asks, and Jackson carefully twists away because he has a feeling she’s about to start chewing on his ear. There’s no way to escape both of them; if he moves away from one, he ends up closer to the other. And switching sides of the table would deliver him to Miriam instead.

He wants to be amused, but he’s not sure these three are safe. _You should have warned me,_ he mouths at Lydia, and she purses her lips, smirking.

“Strong personality,” he replies, playing the game. “Snarky. Kind of an asshole.”

“You definitely like assholes,” Lydia says dryly, and Jackson laughs out loud at the double entendre.

“You have a point.” Which reminds him of something important. He reaches into his pocket, wraps his fingers around a box, but can’t withdraw it before Maggie grabs his arm.

“So, you like a sharp tongue?” she asks.

“Depends on how it’s applied,” Jackson deadpans.

Miriam crosses her arms, looks between where Maggie snuggles close to Jackson on one side, and Jessica is curled around his arm on the other. She huffs. “When is Stiles going to get here?” she asks.

Jackson arches one eyebrow. “Stiles is coming tonight?”

“Mm.” Lydia looks at her nails. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him, hasn’t it?”

“Forever.” Maybe not that long, but more than long enough in Jackson’s book.

By the look on Miriam’s face, it’s been far more recently for her.

Jackson keeps his hand in his pocket, curled around the small box. “How do you know Stiles?”

“How do _you_ know Stiles?” Miriam counters. “He’s Lydia’s best friend, and he visits her a lot. He’s so sweet, and it’s kind of adorable how devoted he is to his boyfriend.”

“Oh, he has a boyfriend?”

Miriam nods quickly. “Well, he says he does. He’s dating this guy who is supposedly so hot, but he’s been overseas for a really long time. Stiles says they Skype all the time, but I can’t understand why anyone would leave him like that. I mean, he’s so nice.”

“Do they know the same Stiles I grew up with?” Jackson asks.

Lydia kicks him under the table. “Yes, they do.”

“It’s just such a pity that he’s gay,” Miriam sighs.

“He’s bisexual,” Lydia points out.

Miriam blinks. “He’s dating a guy now, so he’s gay.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “Still bi, Miriam. Still bi.”

“He’s her maid of honor,” Miriam confides. “If you’re in the wedding, you’ll meet him for certain.”

“We’ve known each other since we were six,” Jackson points out, biting his tongue on the laugh that wants to escape. “It’s just been a while since we’ve seen each other. At least he’s stopped trailing after you like a lost puppy, Lydia.”

“I have his incredibly hot boy to thank for that, apparently.” Lydia pulls out her phone, frowning at it. “And he’s late, of course. He’ll be here eventually. Miriam, he has not forgiven you for last week’s drunken attempt to convince him that he’s been abandoned. Do not try again.”

Miriam props her chin on her hands, looking across the table at Jackson. “Maybe I’ll have better luck with Jackson.”

At least Miriam’s only looking. Maggie’s got one hand on his ass, and if Jackson doesn’t catch—he gets his hand out of his pocket just in time to keep Jessica’s fingers from straying further up his leg. “Okay, we’re going to rearrange here. I need to show Lydia something.”

He nudges Jessica, who pouts when she has to let him out, but they shuffle until Miriam sits with Jessica and Maggie, and Jackson can claim the space on the end of the opposite side of the bench, next to Lydia. He withdraws the box from his pocket, lays it on the table, hand covering it.

He looks across the table, keeps his expression serious. “Ladies, if it were several years ago, and if I were single, I’d be happy to take any one of you home. Or all of you, if that’s what you wanted. But I’m taken. In fact….” He uncovers the box, and Lydia snatches it up, opening it.

The rings inside match, slightly different sizes, but both thick silver bands set with black onyx chips. Jackson’s heart thumps loudly. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s going to be perfect.” Lydia sets the box back down, pulls Jackson close to kiss him on the cheek. “When are you planning—”

Jackson pulls back, breath tight. Heartbeat. That’s his heartbeat.

“Hey, honey. I didn’t know you were getting in today. I thought your flight was for tomorrow morning.” Stiles drops onto the bench next to Jackson, hand falling immediately to the small of Jackson’s back.

Jackson turns to face him, cradles Stiles’s face in his hands and leans close, forehead to forehead. He closes his eyes and inhales the familiar scent that he has missed for far too long; Skype is good for a lot of things, but it is terrible to be able to see his anchor without feeling or smelling him. “If I’d told you when I changed it, that would have spoiled the surprise,” Jackson murmurs, brushing his lips against Stiles’s.

“I like surprises.” Stiles slides his hands over Jackson’s shoulders, curves around the nape of his neck and tugs him closer. “I like surprises a lot.”

Lydia coughs, pokes Jackson in the ribs. “Speaking of surprises,” she murmurs.

What?

Oh.

Shit.

Jackson pulls back to hear Lydia’s friends squealing again. He knows the moment that Stiles catches sight of the ring box, still open on the table. Stiles’s eyes go wide, and Jackson scoops up the box, holds it between them. “So,” he says.

Miriam squeaks.

“So?” Stiles asks.

“I had a plan,” Jackson says. “I was going to get home early, see Lydia, then make it home before you got there. I’d light those candles you like, warm up the massage oil.”

Jessica sighs dramatically, leaning against Maggie.

“And when you got there, I’d be on one knee, waiting for you.” Because Jackson would hear him coming, would know the sound of his car, and his heart, because he will always know when his anchor is near.

“Naked?” Stiles asks. “Because we really need some non-Skype naked times. Not that the Skype naked times are bad, because they are so not, but I have missed you, Jackson.”

Jackson growls under his breath, shoves the ring at Stiles’s chest. “I missed you too, asshole. So just marry me already and I’ll stop this traveling shit.”

Stiles bats his eyes. “Are you going to stay home and have my babies, honey?”

“Are you going to put my ring on before asking me to do anatomically impossible things?” Jackson counters. He holds out his hand when Stiles insists on making him take his ring first, then slides the matching one on Stiles’s finger.

Lydia’s friends squeal. Again.

Lydia takes a sip of her wine. “You have just come dangerously close to upstaging my wedding, Jackson,” she murmurs. “But I think I forgive you.”

Stiles slides off the bench, grips Jackson’s collar and yanks him to standing. Jackson leans up, meeting Stiles for another long, slow kiss. He can feel the metal of the ring against his cheek where Stiles holds him, and Jackson presses his own hand close so Stiles can feel the same.

When they part, Stiles takes his hand, kisses his fingertips. “Sorry, Lydia. Ladies. I’m taking this guy home so we can bang repeatedly until we have to be at a rehearsal tomorrow. Trust me, we should get it out of our system now.”

As Stiles tugs him away, Jackson overhears Miriam’s murmur of, “I don’t understand, Lydia. You said he liked assholes. But Stiles is so nice.” Jackson snorts, and has to repeat it for Stiles, when he asks.

“So, my future husband. You want to get home so you can show me just how much you like my—?”

Jackson doesn’t let him finish, because yes. Yes, he does. “Now,” he growls, and they hurry home.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me [on tumblr](https://tryslora.tumblr.com). If you like my fic, you might also enjoy my original serialized fiction, [Welcome to PHU](https://welcometophu.tumblr.com).


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